Review of Matchstick Men

Ridley Scott's latest endeavor is a well-meaning caper film that revels in stylistic prowess and is propelled by some deft acting on the parts of all involved. It is, as with another recent caper film &#Array; last year's Catch Me If You Can &#Array; a well acted, highly stylized, and very entertaining romp that unfolds on the screen with natural aplomb, elicits laughs, perhaps a few tears, but will ultimately fade from memory once you exit the theater. It is, in short, a well-crafted diversion that won't tax your mental capacities all that much.

Labeling Matchstick Men a caper film is something of a misnomer as it's really a con film hidden under the guise of a caper film. But even that description isn't wholly accurate as the film also veers into father/daughter relationship territory, somewhat akin to the classic Paper Moon, plus it tacks on some lighthearted digs at quirky mental health problems like agoraphobia and obsessive-compulsive disorder (no doubt Matchstick Men will raise the ire of those who suffer from such afflictions much in the same way that A Fish Called Wanda caused an outcry from stutterers the world over).

The film centers around Roy Waller (Nicolas Cage), an ace con artist (or Matchstick Man) who suffers from an amalgamation of agoraphobia, obsessive-compulsive disorder, and numerous tics and eccentricities. His partner in crime is the slick and slimy Frank Mercer (Sam Rockwell). The two are biding their time in L.A. taking small amounts of cash off unwitting suspects via a water purifier scam. While Roy is content with his life, having amassed a small fortune, his prot&#Array;g&#Array; Frank yearns for the ever-elusive "BIG" score. Things are complicated when Roy's afflictions begin to overwhelm him. They get even more complicated with the introduction of his estranged daughter, Angela (the incredibly beguiling Alison Lohman).

True to form, Scott has ladled his film with a myriad of stylistic devices, ranging from over-saturated colors (thanks to cinematographer John Mathieson, one of Scott's recently frequent collaborators &#Array; he worked on such Scott productions as Plunkett & Macleane, Gladiator, and Hannibal), a mish-mash of period styles that make it indiscernible as to whether the film takes place during the '70s, '80s, '90s or '00s, and the (for once) proper use of the annoying jump cut. The latter is used to wonderful effect, creating the unnerving and hypertensive negative euphoria that one imagines a sufferer of agoraphobia, OCD, and other mental illnesses must be subjected to.

In addition to the rich look of the film and Scott's excellent use of handheld camera jerkiness and jump-cut dodginess, the film benefits from some excellent foley work, echo effects, dreamlike noise, and washes of textural ambiance further enhancing the visual environment. Likewise, the score, crafted by Hans Zimmer, teeters between Old School cool (think Sinatra) and Bossanova bravado (think Sergio Mendes).

In terms of the acting, Cage is in top form. After years of starring in films in which he became a caricature of himself, he has finally returned to roles that allow him to evolve and explore the once quirky side of thespianism that begat his career. As with Adaptation, Cage's role in Matchstick Men is not only well-written, but allows for wonderful bouts of eccentricity that comes off as inspired rather than clich&#Array;. Watching him go through a series of nervous tics accompanied by flurried bouts of OCD behavior is both whimsical and sad.

Rockwell, though ostensibly a supporting actor, no less commands the screen and gives Cage a run for his money. He once again finds himself in a role that highlights his Rat Pack hipster fascination, but it doesn't come off as contrived in the least. No, Sam Rockwell is the epitome of modern day cool.

Nicolas Cage and Alison Lohman in Matchstick Men

The real surprise, however, comes in the form of the lithe Lohman. She not only captures the awkwardness of a teenager, but also manages to capture a fair amount of naive sexuality. Her performance as Angela will no doubt spur a rash of lascivious thoughts throughout the minds of any male over the age of 15 who chooses to see this film. Thank God that she's 22 in real life.

While the direction, cinematography, music, set design, and acting are all top notch, the film does falter in spots. Some of the scenes between Roy and Angela suffer from excessive melodramatic indulgence and as a result they crumble into borderline maudlinity. Also, the plot twists will be easily deduced by anybody who is familiar with caper/con movies (I had it figured out well before the advent of the third act, as did my date for the evening). But perhaps the biggest let down is the saccharine ending.

The above may seem like minor quibbles to the casual moviegoer and perhaps they are. But they are enough to prevent what is essentially a brisk, snappy caper/con film from becoming a true classic and instead remaining a well crafted, but ultimately predictable lighthearted affair that will make you laugh, cry, and think while the theater lights are dark, but will slowly fade from memory in the days after.